Day: May 24, 2007

The truth doesn’t hurt all that much…

Thanks to Kate for pointing this out. And, now that I look again, that picture even kind of resembles me…

Your Score: Pure Nerd

78 % Nerd, 47% Geek, 34% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the “dork.” No-longer. Being smart isn’t as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Congratulations!

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos

Beaten by a girl

(Not that there’s anything wrong with that)

It’s insanely beautiful up here. Worst part about summer at the Southern New England shore? Work. Tell me that it’s OK to spend a minimum of 40 hours inside when blue skies the color turquoise, filled with puffy white skies beckon. Tell me that, and I’ll call you a liar.

Work’s busy but great. My clients are happy, my projects are making progress (slowly), and I’ve currently only got a couple of developing personnel crises. Luckily, I’ve just had my 1 year anniversary, so I’m no longer a “provisional” employee. If I can spend some quality time with the requisition system tomorrow, I’ll go into the holiday feeling pretty good about life.

I applied for the backpacking permit for a Connecticut State Park for part of the weekend – the boys and I are going to go see if they’re ready to spend the night in the woods. Actually, scratch that – we’re GOING to go spend the night in the woods, far enough from the car that we can’t bail out at midnight and go home, and see if we get any sleep. My money’s 50/50 that the youngest pretty seriously freaks out. The oldest was asking to take his own tent – I put the kaibosh on that, ’cause (a) it’s one less potential freak out to deal with; and (b) I don’t want to carry it. The campsite is less than a mile from the car, so I don’t think anyone will get too tired.

I got home from the Y tonight, and Missy said “Wow, you look terrible. Swimming must really kill you.”

The problem, my friends, started after I’d done a 250m breast set and a 250m freestyle set. A woman started swimming in the lane immediately next to me, despite an empty entire rest of the pool. Long, languid, lazy strokes of freestyle – next to no splashing when the arms went in; really, really smooth rotary breathing every third stroke.

I started another set at one of her turns, and did 250m free pretty much keeping pace with her. She was turning again just as I finished the fifth lap. I rested a lap, and then started another 250m free, this time trying the fancy breathing on BOTH sides. Didn’t drown quite so much as usual. Almost, but not quite.

She’s still going. Splish, splish, splish, breathe, splish, splish, splish…

So, I do one last 250m free, trying to be relaxed and easy, breathing to the left every fourth stroke – she’s still there.

I thought about doing a final set of 5 laps, but decided that the honorable thing was to admit defeat and move on. I think she closed the place down.

Good on her.

Terramuggus Tri kicks off 14 June. I’m going to try to be there. For the record, it’s going to flat out kill me.

Easy as Fishin’

Nothing physical on Wednesday. Had to get into the office early to support a couple of meetings, and then get home early to support Missy’s book club.

IN support of the book club, the boys and I made ourselves scarce. Quick stop at the KFC, and then on to a little pond to go fishing. Good times.

There were rocks upon which to climb, ducks to look at, and a brand-new SpiderMan fishing pole for the youngest. Getting the SpiderMan fishing pole involved a stop at walmart, where the kid then insisted upon hanging from my arm and swinging around like Peter Parker just out of pull-ups.

Jake had the task of digging worms. Our yard is crazy with them, and last year he did an admirable job in getting them out. So, no question existed in my mind when I got home, and he handed me a plastic box with some dirt in it that it was crazy full of nightcrawlers.

7-year olds need backup. The neighbor-girl, who’s going to be a nightmare for her folks when she hits about 13, dumped out the worms ’cause she didn’t want Jake to hurt them. Jake added a couple of tiny, tiny, tiny worms when she wasn’t looking, and a centipede, and that was what we went fishing with.

Or, more accurately, dumped off the dock before we pulled out the jigs.

No fish, but the boys and I had a great time watching the shadows grow long and envelop the world. We left just as the tireds started to sink in with the youngest, and he started complaining about being cold, and asking for a flashlight. Good times.